Graveyard Of Little Muses
Stranger, I Know Your Lips, and Your Lips Know Me
The day I finished painting the sky
in the color of your eyes...
Oh! How can I forget that day
since it is the day we first sinned, in your bed, in silence
among the nude thin sheets.
And on the other side of the plastic door,
I remember the world,
trying to listen to our screams.
But is long since then...
You breath upon that same blue sky
and all the clouds, hanging above
heavy, with the words of my pen
move aside, for the blonde stars to fall,
on your incandescent nude shape
like the drunken men that fall on the streets.
But they're not stars,
they're the kisses of the men that fascinate you today.
I thought that if I love you, childishly
and give you a ring,
not even a god would be strong enough
to part your lips from mine,
or to lift my heavy heart from the ground
if someday you'd left me
for another man's smile,
but I was awfully mislead by my heart
to belive such fairytales.
I'm better now, and I agree with you,
Love is not a monster, only humans are.
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